


Oh no, darling, the sky is dark

by Anonymous



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Paul, Cock Rings, Fisting, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Punishment, Restraints, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29084919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The lads punish Paul for not sticking to his own rules.
Relationships: George Harrison/John Lennon/Paul McCartney/Ringo Starr
Kudos: 17
Collections: Anonymous





	Oh no, darling, the sky is dark

**Author's Note:**

> obviously, don't read if it's tad too intense for your liking

Paul's known he made a mistake since he met Ringo's disapproving glance. The drummer was the last to hold illogical grudges and therefore was considered the most reliable source for figuring out the situation. And he was pissed. That much Paul could tell, not that he had any doubts, he, himself, didn't like the others flirting with anybody else, let alone a blonde with giant tits. If their positions had been switched, he would have been livid.

  
But true to his stubborn essence, Paul shrugged it off, not only carrying on flirting but even following the lass into her flat and sleeping with her despite finishing to the image of John in his head.

And now, the walk to their hotel suite only evoked all the murky thoughts. He held onto the straw of hope they wouldn't let it pass maybe with some acid remarks, but his sober mind knows that's merely his naive wish.

Besides, it was he who suggested proper punishments, growing fed up with John trying his patience. If only he hadn't been so smug, considering it impossible for him, James Paul Mccartney, to be the subject of such a system.

He entered their room, feigning detachment upon spotting his 3 boyfriends on the bed, all of them dressed up and glaring daggers.

"Listen, I--" He attempted, hoping to delay the inevitable.

"We think it's time for you to undress and get your arms behind your back," Ringo interrupted him coldly, waving the written document with the summarised rules of their game.

He did, a cold tremor patting his spine when the metal cuffs secured his hands.

***

First is George, and Paul's breath hitches. No matter how quiet the tabloids portray him, there lurks darkness within those seemingly indifferent eyes. He rearranges Paul on the bed -- legs spread nice and wide -- presses on Paul's shoulder blades to force his back to arch and, in return, his arse rises up. 

The position is humiliating but still better than what is about to come. George doesn't rush, and it indicates he must have been bottling up emotions for a while now. 

He begins pinching the skin of Paul's ass, up and down the pale globes till it earns him a tiny sound of discomfort. A chuckle, low and dangerous, travels to Paul's ear just a microsecond before the first slap is delivered to his right cheek. And left, and right and left...it goes on forever, George alternates between forceful and tender, doesn't give Paul time to figure out a strategy to brace himself before 5 slaps sting him in rapid succession, the other buttcheek following shortly.

Tears begin to dribble down from Paul's eyes because George is relentless and though he is not whisking him anymore, he makes sure to grope and touch every little patch of skin of Paul's behind. "Spread him, Georgie," somebody, probably Ringo, urges the younger man, and he complies, kneading Paul's arse before revealing the tight ring of muscles. A finger tickles Paul's hole, crawling up and down his crack before a particularly strong thwack is delivered, causing the bubbly butt to jiggle. 

Paul notices the bed dip behind him, opens his mouth to let out a grumble when a hand presses into the raw skin. 

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Paulie." 

That's John who is currently splaying him over his lap, the coarse fabric of his jeans rubbing Paul's cock that against all the manhandling starts to stir into full attention. Paul hisses, immediately regretting that because it only draws attention to his struggles, and another rain of chuckles falls on his head to point out the misery of his position.

"Aha," John exclaims loudly, flexing his thigh and enhancing the friction. It's painful and humiliating, Paul's ego doesn't wish for his boyfriends to see him come this early, and part of him knows very well they wouldn't be quite happy about that, too, it would only encourage them to tantalise him more. He scoots to his knees, or wants to, but his strategy ain't no mystery to John who simply tsks and, palm resting on the small of Paul's back, guides him back till Paul's crotch lies flush with John's legs. 

John's goal isn't letting all his frustration collide with Paul's arse but to enjoy himself. And that he certainly does, grabbing a handful of pale skin and squeezing, then patting it slightly to see it shake. In any other situation, Paul would relish the attention. John adores his ass the most, often spending a while by worshipping it until Paul turns into a babbling mess. But today his comments are like needles, leaving Paul hanging on the edge of the unknown. 

"Why so quiet, Paulie, hm? Do we not keep you entertained? Very well, we will give you more."

They unfasten the cuffs, massaging his sore wrists before propping him on his fours in the middle of the bed. Ringo kneels in front of him, unzipping his trousers and taking out his cock. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes sure get the message through. Paul doesn't hesitate to open his mouth, desperate to prove he knows he fucked up. A strong hand tugs at his hair, a painful sensation that carries a sense of pride even in a situation like this -- he's the one making Ringo lose control to the point a grunt after grunt escapes his lips.

Swallowing him all the way to the base, a wicked idea about him gaining the upper hand with his undoubtfully brilliant oral skills. It spurs him on, saliva and precum spilling down his chin, but nothing matters, because he has set a goal and intends to follow it thoroughly. It provides him with control. And control is on the top of McCartney's list of priorities.

Unfortunately, Paul can be a little narrow-minded, almost blind to his surroundings when focusing on his strategy. That's why he doesn't register John lying down, doesn't see anything unusual with the way he caresses his furry thighs. It's when he licks his crack with a flat tongue before eating him out shamelessly, that Paul stutters in his until-then calculated movements and gags on Ringo's dick. 

The others laugh, of course, because he moans despite wanting to scold them, and it's no secret how bad he reacts to someone's spoils his plan. Ringo slows down the pace of his thrusts, holds Paul back by his neck to stall his orgasm. Paul realises what it means -- the longer he has to pleasure the drummer, the closer he inches to his own climax. And, obviously, John doesn't plan on ceasing the torture of his mouth any time soon.

Paul tries to wiggle to the side to get some relief while keeping up the slow bobbing of his head. All effort goes to vain, because Ringo's grip is unwavering, and John simply squeezes his thighs to keep him in place. 

His hands begin to throb tiredly, but he refrains from using them, too afraid of someone cuffing them behind his back again. His jaw starts to hurt, and he musters all the energy to push Ringo closer to the brim with his tongue massaging all the special spots. 

"C-close," the oldest of them announces, which results in John slowing down to occasional kisses and little kitten licks. Ringo's shaft pulses and hits the back of Paul's throat as he snaps his hips forward frantically. Finally, fucking finally, he releases into Paul's mouth, who drinks it obediently, breathing through his nose.

It doesn't end there, he realises with confusion, when Ringo lets him go at the same time John dives back into eating him out. George joins them this time, forcing Paul down to reintroduce the painful friction of the bedsheets. 

"I hope you don't plan on cumming, dear," he whispers into his ear, giggling at the breathy moan Paul tries to bury into the mattress. 

John's ministrations grow wilder and messier, he nibbles at the puffy rim, before lapping at the now gaping hole. His spit drops down to Paul's thighs, and he tries to escape either the wetness or his burning cock. Suddenly, George sneaks his hand and encircles Paul's length, effectively ruining any chances at lasting any longer. 

His breath comes in comical puffs, interrupted only by a whine or a moan here and there. Paul's hips jerk pointlessly in the hopes of easing the approaching orgasm, but it only presses him back into John's face, earning him a slap each time it happens, or into George's fist, who punishes him by a painful squeeze. He doesn't see, because his sweaty hair falls into his eyes, and yells when he can't hold it anymore, spurts of cum dirtying George's hand.

John continues to stretch him on the muscle of his tongue, brushing against Paul's prostate, even after the high of his orgasm wears off. It takes four quiet please's for them to turn him over and let him catch his breath.

A finger traces his stomach, slowly sneaking up to his chest while another hand ventures towards his groin, gently touching his flaccid member. 

Paul furrows his brows as if willing the nosy hands to go away, a grimace that only causes the third pair of hands to brush his bangs.

"Aww, is our baby tired? Is he?" George coos.

"Too bad the fun just started, aye?" John chuckles, absent-mindedly flicking Paul's nipple.

Paul tries to scramble up despite his muscles protesting. He knew that it wouldn't end with him coming once, but saying it loud wakes him up.

"Ahha, calm down, big boy, we will take good care of you," Ringo comments on his predicament after they bind his hands again. George, who is definitely stronger in this very instance, sits him on his lap, Paul's back flush with his chest and his stick-like legs keeping Paul's spread.

He can't move, only shiver and whine when George brushes his cock. 

"Shhh, your little friend is getting excited, it wouldn't be very nice to overlook him, would it?" 

"And you will have fun, too, look!"

John brings a mirror, resting it against the headboard on the opposite side of the bed. Paul closes his eyes immediately, but they have none of it. George pinches the tender skin of his inner thighs, simultaneously mouthing at the juncture of Paul's neck until he obliges and has a look at himself.

"Theeere you go, beautiful boy," Ringo praises him, moving closer and to the side.  
"He looks a bit down, though, any ideas, gentlemen?"

They are all fully clad, patronising him like he is a little boy and not a member of the numero uno band. It pushes blood to his cheeks and he tries to squirm out of George's arms.

"Whoop whoop, quite energetic, ain't he? Maybe we should make him cum again? Y'see, brighten him up and tire the grumpiness." 

Paul shakes his head, not agreeing with any of John's suggestions despite knowing that's exactly what's going to occur. He groans when George's hand, slicked with lube, begins to pump him up, not caring about his sensitivity. Seemingly, his own cock doesn't give a damn either for it slowly but surely fills up again. And if he didn't feel it, it's all in front of him, served on a silver plate of the mirrored surface.

Pathetic. That's the adjective popping in his head when he sees himself struggling to stay upright, too prideful to slump back to George. 

John entertains himself with one of Paul's feet. Tickling the arch of his sole before kissing it. He hates it. HATES IT. Would love to just roll away and curl into himself, but George's legs don't allow him to escape. The only thing he's left with is his voice albeit even that becomes raspier with each mewl he involuntarily voices, his leg jerking helplessly in John's grasp.

"God, I could never get enough of those sounds, Paulie. Such a cute kitten," John says as he moves to repeat the action on the other foot. To Paul's utter mortification, he lets out a particularly high moan, because George starts to lick the sensitive patch of skin behind his ear.

"Agreed, a cute kitten with cute nipples," Ringo adds, rough fingertips tracing Paul's belly taunt with the pleasure uncoiling.

"S-stop, please," he pants, aware of his sensitive chest and not liking the way Ringo creeps closer and closer.

"Stop? Now? When we have you all spread and bothered? I'm sorry, but you demand too much, we're just humans."

Paul gasps, extremely loudly, when Ringo encircles his left nipple. The cold metal of his rings pressing into his pale skin puckers the pink nub.

"Good boy," George whispers, biting his ear as he slows down the tempo of his hand moving up and down. "Now, just relax and moan for us, yeah?"

Ringo creates a rhythm out of Paul's despair. First, he rubs around Paul's areolas, slowly, almost lazily, occasionally touching the nipples as if he has no idea what is going on. Then, he starts to pinch them, one and two, one and two, increasing the pace of Paul's shallow breaths. Before it can get predictable, he incorporates tugs as well, so it's rather one, two, three, Paul shrieks, one, two, three, Paul shrieks. George toys with the head of his dick, squeezing it between his fingers and spreading the beads of precum. Ringo leans forwards and captures one nipple between his teeth while rubbing the other. The scrape borders on painful, but Paul can't move anywhere, the hands behind his back forcing his chest forward and into Ringo's face. 

He cries out when Ringo blows out on his abused nipples, now swollen and glistening with saliva. How he wishes he was able to contain himself because the sound spreads a devilish grin on Ringo's face and he hops off the bed only to come back with a glass of ice cubes from the minibar.

"Don't even think about that," he protests in vain, twisting when the ice makes contact with his skin. 

His nipples perk up comically, offering themself to Ringo, who devours them with calculated attention. The other two grab a piece themself, George languidly tracing his stomach while John moves the chilly thing up and down his inner thighs.

They get bored with his pleads roughly after 15 minutes, picking up their previous techniques. George whacks him off, Ringo tortures his nipples and John focuses on his balls. 

Paul doesn't want to come, tries to think of dirty socks and dead fish but he cannot stop watching the scene in the mirror. And even if he tried, one of his lovers would notice and remind him with rough affection.

He collapses backwards on George, his face red with humiliation and arousal. Ringo tugs extra forcefully, urging George to reply with increased speed too, and, feeling like all of his nerves are exposed, stripes of spunk shoot on his stomach and sheets. George rides him through it, making sure Paul is utterly spent out.

This time he's granted a moment to compose himself as they wipe him clean. George kisses up his neck reassuringly, and it lures him into blissful ignorance.

He considers the distant buzzing a product of his imagination until something nudges his leg. Startled, Paul's eyes fly open, landing on innocently grinning John who holds a bullet vibrator.

It sends Paul into a panicky fit, he doesn't want to cum, not again, and the hyper-sensitivity after two orgasms promises to only heighten with any other stimulation.

"T-that's--"

"Yes, tonight's all about you!"

"I CAN'T...no, it's not--"

"Of course you can, Paul, of course."

He has no power left to try to dodge the nifty thing, and they all cheer him for staying calm. At least they leave his dick for a while, focusing mainly on the mental aspect of the game, Paul's knack for praise. 

The vibrator slides down to his neck to meet his chest. He hums when it sends tremors down his chest, the tender flesh flushing.

"Such a good lad."

"Look, Paulie! Your nipples are so pink now. Like delicious candies. Sweet as those too."

"There's a pretty cock, that's it, honey, just let those sounds out, enjoy yourself."

"Shh, don't fret, we've got you."

And with great struggles, his dick rises to attention for the third time. He whimpers when the humming thing touches the velvety head before travelling down, stopping at the base. Hands pet his body, kneading away the tension from the previous days, and John wraps his lips around the tip of his junk, increasing the rate of the vibrations. Paul moans, on the verge of another orgasm, even inches his hips to get more of that hot mouth onto his dick. He's floating on the cloud of pleasure, so, so close...

And then it all stops.

"Hmmpf?"

Something slides down his cock, cold metal fitting snugly around the base.

"N-no." He shifts, hoping it's just a bad dream, an illusion.

"Ah, c'mon, we don't want to get you too exhausted. Got too many plans for that."

The vibrator rests right against his knob, guiding Paul to the release only to have it slapped down by the silver ring. It's maddening. Paul vision blurs with tears of frustration, his cock pulsating angrily.

Finally, they turn it off, pushing him off George's lap and, again, onto his front. He raises his arse automatically, not wanting them to pose him and accidentally touch his groin. 

There's a sound of a bottle being uncapped, and sticky liquid is massaged around his hole.

"Steady on, deep breaths," Ringo warns before inserting the first finger inside.

The absence of pain is the courtesy of John's mouth and Ringo's experience, still, the latter means the oldest man can locate Paul's prostate too early and has no inhibitions about experimenting in that regard.

He taps, rubs and presses it, calling out Paul's moans and groans with sweet encouragements.

Another finger joins the slide, enhancing the stretch of Paul's inner walls. He tries to run away, at least in his head, but any coherent thought has been dismissed by the cruel pace of Ringo's fingers. He works him open steadily, not missing the sweet spot once. Soon, three thick fingers are brushing his exposed nerves, and Paul is glad he doesn't have to hold himself up. And one more. Paul opens his mouth to scream or say something, but only a high and hysterical sound comes out. 

He feels his hole being stretched to the maximum, four fingers grazing the fleshy bump inside him. It's not enough for them as it's not enough for him.

"The last one, aye? You are doing great."

"You're doing marvellous, Paul, taking it all like a darling."

The fingers withdraw with a wet plop before even more lube drips down onto the puckered muscles. Ringo fingers him with fours fingers before aligning the pinky at the rim. 

It doesn't burn, but certainly fills Paul up, Ringo's thick digits are working the inner muscles of Paul's hole relentlessly. Christ, one wouldn't believe just a few hours ago Paul was controlling the pleasure of a woman in the almost identical position. His dick pulsates in the hopes of emptying.

"Ahh, please, p-please," Paul babbles away, even when Ringo slows down and settles for just covering the entirety of the spot. 

"Hear, hear, Rings, he's ready."

He's flipped over, whining at the loss of stimulation, no matter how he detests it with this stupid thing around his pecker, Paul feels like going crazy when it's gone.

John's propped against the headboard with his trousers undone and his cock standing proud. He winks at Paul, who is dragged over and deposited on John's lap by George and Ringo.

"Jesus, the state of you!"

"Looks pretty fuckable," George retorts, lifting Paul up till the blunt tip grazes his asshole. "Prepared and ready."

"You can thank me later," Ringo chimes in amusedly.

George's hand presses on Paul's shoulder till he takes in the first inch, John's eyes falling shut.

"I'd help you, but you're such a stubborn boy. Gotta bounce on that dick yourself. Give me and Rich a show."

Paul's knees are weak and he struggles to sink deeper. His balance is barely existing thanks to the cuffs and he's afraid he would collapse face first if he moved too quickly. Not to mention his cock hanging hard between his legs, even the tiny momentum causing its veins to appear. To get used to the drill, he lifts himself up, lowers down a notch before repeating. His efficient strategy apparently doesn't amuse John, whose hands shoot to the meat of Paul's hips, pushing him down and holding him there.

"Fuckin' hell, stop acting like a virgin, you had Ringo's hand up to your ass just seconds ago." 

Paul hisses at the pressure of John's cock poking his prostate and tries to lift up.

"AhHA, NONONO, my bunny, you're going to sit here and listen. I'm hurt by the lack of enthusiasm and therefore think it's time for another punishment," John scolds him, brushing his fringe aside. "You are going to ride me while singing She Loves You, yeah?"

Ringo and George snicker at the confused expression Paul sports from the sides.

"W-what? No, NO. T-that's, I can't, Johnny," he reasons, eyes flicking back Ringo. "Rings? Tell him, p-please."

"I don't know, Paul, seems like fun to me. Make sure to master those yeah's."

And, so, he obliges, licking his lips before singing the first lines.

_"Y-you think you lost your love..."_

He scoops up, already out of breath and cringing at the raspiness of his voice.

_"Well, I saw her yES-yesterday..."_

John's cock grazes his prostate, causing him to shoot up not to moan instead of singing.

_"It's you s-he thinks of, and she told me what to say.."_

There! He finds a way to tilt back to spare the magical spot the unbearable stimulation. He can do it.

_"She says she loves you, and you know that can't be bad, yes, she loves you, and you know you should be glad, ooh..."_

John's hands tickle his skin as they map his lower abdomen, he shuts his eyes determined not to let it interfere with his performance.

_"She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, she loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah, and with a love like that, you know you should be gla-UGHmmm..."_

John wraps his hand around Paul's neglected cock, seemingly indifferent to the screech it earns him. Or the way Paul falls onto his chest and can't get up.

"Right, I see you haven't had enough spanking."

It's awful, because John still plays with his length, while Ringo and George start to slap his ass, causing him to clench around John's dick.

He sobs. Weeps like a baby, because they aim at the marks from before, and he doesn't know what's worse, the stinging or John filling him up.

They rearrange him, and John begins to pound into him, chasing his own release. At least, he forgets about Paul's engorged genitals for a moment. The ejaculate is warm and sticky, and Paul would probably cringe if he possessed any strength. 

But he barely protests when it's all over, and he finally lies on his back, the soft pillow supporting his head.

John swallows him eagerly, suckling the head into his mouth while caressing Paul's legs. Paul shrieks from the stimulation, noticing for the first time his hands aren't cuffed anymore.

"That's if, you did so well, lovely," George comforts him, his voice no longer smudged by malice.

"Just tell us you want to cum, and John will happily help you out," Ringo advises.

"I-I...please!"

"Please what, Paulie?"

"Letmecum letmecum, please, J-john."

The ring snaps open and 2 seconds after, allowing Paul to finally let go, John swallowing it all and riding him through it while Paul's eyes roll back and his mouth stays open.

***

He barely flinches when a wet towel cleans him out or when they dress him into his favourite pair of pyjamas. He knows it's all good because everybody pecks him on his forehead, except for John who can't resist bestowing a sweet kiss to Paul's round cheeks.

In the back of his heads flip different versions of a formal apology he intends to tell his boyfriends tomorrow. But for the time being, he doesn't care about anything else than John's strong chest under his head or Ringo's breath tickling his neck. George fumbles with the guitar for a while, the melody helping Paul to fall asleep, he must remember to ask him about it, too. It sounds like a new hit.

  
No girl compares to this.

**Author's Note:**

> way to pass a long train ride


End file.
